Edward's Swansong
by Goldsaddletank
Summary: *Sequel to A Requiem for Thomas* Edward tries to move on with his life, but is too pained by Thomas' death to recover. So, he quietly ends it all... *WARNING- RATING FOR SUICIDE AND PAST CHARACTER DEATH*
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I would like to thank my online sister Raphianna for helping me put this story together! I also lost someone recently, so… it might be a bit raw. But I hope you all enjoy it, regardless!

Warning: suicide of a major character, and implied character death from its predecessor, 'A Requiem for Thomas' another of my fanfics I wrote earlier on.

…

In the days following the accident that robbed Thomas of his life, Edward was numb; with pain, with sadness, with grief, with anger, with _loss_. He found it hard to accept that he would never hear Thomas' joy-filled laughter or see his sweet yet cheeky smile again.

Prior to Thomas' arrival, Edward had lived a largely lonely life on Sodor. His crew were wonderful, Sir Topham Hatt trusted him with affairs in the yard willingly, and Henry showed him kindness, but whenever Gordon or James made fun of his old age, he sometimes retreated to join the duo. Edward willingly forgave the three afterwards, but back then when they insulted him unfairly, it stung.

And then, Thomas joined the fleet as the North Western Railway's first official tank engine. Young, determined, cheeky yet kind… Edward had never seen such a confident, lively and cheery engine before meeting Thomas.

Thomas got into his share of scrapes, but the little tank engine always stuck up for him against the bigger engines' harsh critiques, chose the colour blue to honour his beloved mentor, and always, always tried his hardest to live by Edward's lessons. Since his early days in the yard, the blue tank engine had become Edward's closest friend- a comforting presence who made him feel joy, worry, elation, fear (for his safety!) - but not loneliness.

Only now, with a gaping hole in his heart, he realised the one thing he would regret for the rest of his days was that he had realised that he never got to voice how Thomas was more than a 'young friend' to him. He was so, so much more than that.

He was the son Edward never had.

And now, Thomas was scrapped, never to hear the words the old K2 had longed to tell him following his brave efforts to rescue James from a cow field.

Why, oh why had he been so afraid to tell Thomas how he felt?

In the nights he did manage to sleep, he would have night terrors… of Thomas. The little blue engine would be crying out with fear and sadness- and the worst part was, he was always on his own, with no friends and no light to lead him home.

'I want to go home... Edward, where are you? I don't know where I am, and I'm scared. I want to be back with you!'

Other nights, Thomas showed more resilience- or was it Edward trying to give himself strength using Thomas as a comfort? He couldn't tell anymore.

He was hurting- a raw, undiluted grief which clawed at his mind whenever the subject of Thomas or his tragic demise came up.

'I've tried to be brave. It's hurting me. But I'll keep trying!' Thomas yelled, before he was quickly swallowed by the darkness of Edward's grief. No amount of crying and waling could induce the tank engine's return.

Nothing ever could.

But sometimes, if he's lucky, the night terrors turn into beautiful dreams with the two being reunited in floods of happy tears.

"Oh, Edward, I never want to be apart from you again!" Thomas sniffed joyfully, looking up at his mentor with adoration and love.

"I also never to be apart from you again, Thomas," Edward said warmly, and he pressed his buffers gently and lovingly to Thomas'.

But even with this little comfort in mind, Edward just couldn't bear the emotional pain in his boiler any longer- especially whenever he awoke to find Thomas still dead, still gone forever.

It wasn't right that Thomas had been taken away from him…from everyone on Sodor and the world. He had been getting on in years- was 103 years old now- but he was still the same cheeky, loveable tank engine who first came to the yard so long ago.

' _What's wrong? Do I have soot on my face?'_

The memory made Edward chuckle weakly- but even now, trying to remember Thomas was the hardest thing he had ever done. He broke down in tears whenever he heard his name, or thought he heard his voice- only it wasn't really Thomas's voice at all; it was just his imagination playing tricks on him.

He would willingly put up with any hell Gordon and James put him through a second time around- even worse if necessary- if only Thomas could be returned, alive and well, to Sodor.

"If only…" Sighed Edward. "If I had to endure it again to bring him back, I would find it less hard than dealing with him being gone forever…."

…..

Edward made up his mind the day before, and now, with his crew safely away in the workmen's hut for a well-deserved rest, he decided he was going to carry it out tonight.

Quietly, he left his berth at Tidmouth Sheds, with only a whispered farewell to the other engines slumbering peacefully, before using the turntable for the last time.

He quietly steamed across the island- past Wellsworth, up Gordon's Hill, and along the line, until he found the rundown siding hidden behind a thick wall of trees that led to an enormous drop to a rocky outcrop… and the sea. He had found it just after his friend's death, and he felt that it would be fitting for its purpose.

He moved down the rickety track until he was fifteen feet away from the cliff. He stopped, allowing himself to feel the Sudrian wind on his face. It swept across his face in cold, biting motions, almost as though it was reprimanding him from his decision.

But he ignored the wind. His mind was resolute- this was his only way of his grief for his friend, his son.

"I'm so sorry for what I'm about to do, everyone." He whispered to the wind, his voice soft and sorrowful. "I've tried to be strong and move on- but I can't. I regret so much…and I am hurting, because I loved Thomas as more than a friend… he was like a son I couldn't have. The son I wanted to have…and his last accident, as well as my own fears, have robbed him of all chances to hear how much I loved him…"

Tears flooded his eyes, but he forced himself to look up at the sky, where stars twinkled against an inky backdrop. Below, the grey waves crashed silently onto the jagged teeth of the landscape- but Edward paid no heed to the beauty of his spot. He was here for his final purpose, not to admire the landscape of Sodor.

Taking a deep breath, he spoke once more, tears spurting from his now closed eyes.

"I'm sorry for the pain that I am about to cause on all of you... but I just can't keep going anymore. Not without Thomas. Not without him." He whispers. "I'm sorry… everyone. Percy, Henry, Sir, Gordon, James, Toby, BoCo, Duck, Bill and Ben... all of you. Please, forgive me for hurting you all further. But I feel it's better off this way…. But, before I go, you have all been the greatest friends an old engine such as I could ever have, and I appreciate everything you have ever done for me…. look after each other, please… for me."

And then, with all the strength he had left, Edward steamed forward as fast as his wheels would carry him…and sped off the cliff…

He allowed the wind to whistle round his smokebox, before closing his eyes for the last time…

…..

The next day, the news spread about what happened to poor Edward.

How this came to be was that four fishermen out on the Olly Anna fishing boat found the old engine's whistle, before one gravely spotted the wreckage- dashed to pieces on the rocks.

It was obvious he was gone as well… so the fishermen took their hats off in respect of the dead engine.

"We better radio land." One said solemnly. The captain, a young, clean shaven man in his late 30s, took the responsibility of radioing the Brendam harbourmaster. Once the engine's description was given, Edward was identified as the engine who died.

The harbourmaster thanked the fishermen for their courtesy, before hanging up the phone, and pinched the bridge of his nose, before dialling the Fat Controller- currently in his office at Knapford Station.

"Ah, Jenkins! Any news of Edward's disappearance?" he asked hopefully. The harbourmaster's heart sank at the prospect of revealing the grim news.

"Yes, sir. Some fishermen out on the Olly Anna just got in touch. I'm afraid Edward is little more than a legacy to the railway now. I'm sorry."

The Fat Controller let his phone fall and then he allowed several tears to fall for one of his oldest and wisest engines.

….

Later, he gathered the engines -and Edward's crew- together at Tidmouth later that morning to share the sad news of Edward's suicide.

"Sir, what's happened to Edward?" Henry asked, worried.

"Will he be okay?" Percy piped up.

The Fat Controller sighed, not looking forward to breaking the news. But it had to be done. "I'm afraid…. I'm afraid he is gone." He said, allowing a few tears to fall on finally saying it to someone. The engines fell silent in shock and horror at seeing their boss cry… and the reason for it.

"Gone? Whatever do you mean, sir?" Asked Gordon arrogantly, but his voice contained an underlying note of alarm at their boss's tone. He did not like where this was going.

"You don't mean, sir…?" Emily asked fearfully. "Did he….?"

"He…. He jumped off a cliff last night. Some fishermen on the Olly Anna found his… his remains this morning. I'm so sorry to had to hear this, everyone,"

The engines gasped in horror as the news finally hit them like a sack of bricks- particularly James, who blanched at this newly added tragedy to the Steam Team.

"He did say he felt life wasn't living the other day…." He whispered in shock and fright. "I heard him say that, sir, but I didn't think he'd go through with it…. I wish I spoke up now. Maybe…maybe…"

"Please, I don't want anyone blaming themselves for Edward's suicide." The Fat Controller said gently. "It won't do any good. I'm very, very sorry to have to tell you all this- especially so soon after Thomas' loss."

They all looked towards Thomas' empty berth- filled with scented candles, poems, flowers of varying freshness, photographs, teddy bears and dolls (from children paying tribute to their fallen hero) and messages from everyone- even the engines (who had theirs written by their crews on their behalf.)

"I'm closing the railway once again, as a mark of respect to Edward. You'll have some time off work to grieve." The Fat Controller finished sadly. "I will hold a memorial service to Edward- like the one for Thomas, and I hope you can all attend."

"Thank you, sir," Gordon said numbly, already bitterly regretting all the times he teased Edward for his old age- and he also regretted not showing his appreciation more whenever Edward had to help him up the hill ('again!' as Edward would so cheerfully phrase it.)

Now _two_ of their friends were gone. What were the engines to do with themselves?

…..

The next night, all the engines were at Tidmouth Sheds. Emily, Percy and Henry were sobbing and crying. James and Gordon were both numb and in a state of shock over losing Edward- and so soon after losing Thomas as well.

It was horrible, for no one knew what to say to relieve the pain or comfort each other. They all either had tears, regrets, or silence for company.

Suddenly, they all heard laughter coming from the tracks near the sheds. At first, Gordon was tempted to bellow in rage at whoever was being so insolently disrespectful as to laugh and remain in normalcy when their world was tragically turned upside down for a second time.

But then, Percy let a tearful smile break out across his face as he recognised the laughter. "Listen, everyone" he whispered quietly, and they did. Everyone was dumbfounded when they recognised the joyous sounds on the line.

Sobs were silenced, silence was doused, and curiosity was ignited.

All too familiar laughter continued to ring across the yard- as well the sound of two engines moving along tracks.

Apart from Percy, the engines looked around in disbelief before exchanging panicked looks. It couldn't be true. They were gone! How could they be here, right now?!

"Ha-ha! I'll get you Thomas!" A familiar voice said happily.

Then there was giggling. "No, you won't Edward!" A second, also familiar, voice replied cheekily, before the laughter quietly faded away- as did the sound of engines moving along the tracks.

Percy started tearing up. Despite their violent deaths, Edward and Thomas never sounded better, or happier. "They're… They're alright…" He sniffed, blinking back tears of happiness at hearing his two closest friends were happy at being reunited once more in death.

"Well, that's a comfort, at least," said James quietly, managing a brave smile at the green tank engine next to him, and everyone smiled at each other.

It would take a long time, and it was going to be a very painful road to travel down with two of their friends now dead and in the grave- but they knew, deep down, that things would eventually get better.

After all, they had affectionate memories of the two deceased engines, and they still had the love of each other as a family to march through the pain and hurt, before moving on- and honouring the lives and memories of the two blue engines they were proud to call their best friends.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I'd just like to thank my friend, asperman1, for suggesting this idea to me for Edward having a funeral following his death. I hope you like reading, and reviews will be much appreciated. Thank you.

….

The next day, Christopher Awdry was having breakfast at home when the post arrived. Rifling through the envelopes revealed mostly bills and junk mail, but then, he came across a letter that looked eerily like the letter that he received from the Fat Controller, announcing Thomas' tragic death.

He tore the envelope open, pulled out the letter and scanned through the contents.

" _Dear Christopher Awdry,_

 _It is with deepest regret that I write to you to inform you that Edward the Blue Engine has recently committed suicide over the loss of his mentee and dear friend, Thomas, to a fatal accident on the Vicarstown Bridge. Edward himself had driven off a cliff into the sea, and some fishermen found his remains._

 _I cordially invite you to attend his funeral and memorial service on Sodor on Sunday_ _25th_ _of February._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Sir Topham Hatt."_

Christopher rubbed his face in dismay. Attending one funeral of the engines his late father wrote so much about had been very, very hard as it was- but having to attend a second in a short space of time was even less appealing.

Still, Edward was the first ever engine Christopher ever learned about on Sodor- even before Thomas himself, thanks to his dad. He'd want to go- even if suicide was normally against God's will.

Sighing, he solemnly fished his breakfast, and got ready to go. He had to make a phone call to postpone a Sunday lunch with friends, and he went to go and catch a train to Sodor. The funeral was tomorrow, and the journey wasn't too far, but he decided to go and see Sir Topham Hatt and the remaining engines before the funeral.

….

On arriving at Vicarstown, he saw Gordon waiting for him to take him on to Knapford. Christopher decided now would be a good time to start.

"Gordon?" he asked, walking up to the grand number '4' of the North Western Railway.

"Yes, sir?" a sullen voice rumbled quietly.

Christopher was shaken when he saw that Gordon's eyes were dull and his face ghostlike. He remembered this engine to be proud, arrogant and boastful….and yet, he was now a shell of his former self.

"I wished to say how sorry I am for hearing about Edward's suicide." Christopher said gently.

"I just don't get it… why did he do it? Well, I know he missed Thomas a lot, but we all did. We still do. Why didn't he talk to us?" Gordon asked, anger burning in his eyes.

"Perhaps he could see no other way," Suggested the man, benevolently. "I know my father's profession does not approve of suicide- but I have observed that a reason why people commit suicide is because they fear what they are facing and do not wish to trouble their loved ones anymore."

"But Edward could have come to us!" Gordon thundered. "We're his friends! It's just not fair- cos he didn't say anything, he"-

"Life can be unfair yes- but we find ways to cope with that unfairness." Christopher interrupted. "However, there are some people who struggle to cope, or are so overwhelmed by what they have to face, that they cannot see any other way of coping other than escaping the situation permanently. I can understand you are hurting, but Edward was hurting too. From what I have known of their relationship, Edward cared for Thomas as a son he did not have."

"He did." Gordon said, a bittersweet smile on his face. "He did so much for Thomas, even when most of us didn't like associating with him at the start."

"Precisely. The loss of a child is strongly felt, Gordon. It is a process no parent, biological, adopted or otherwise, wants to endure willingly. I cannot blame Edward for his decision, and I implore that you find it in your heart to forgive him."

"… well, he did a lot for me, like helping me up that wretched hill," Gordon mused. "And he forgave me for bullying him so shamefully in my earlier years of working here. I guess forgiving Edward for what's happened is the least I can do."

"Just remember, Gordon- people who commit suicide do not necessarily wish to die- or cause distress to loved ones. They see death as the only option to escaping their problems- and it takes a lot of courage for these people to step forward and admit they need help."

"Thank you, sir," Said Gordon, smiling slightly. "I… I appreciate you saying that."

"I am only passing on what I have learned, Gordon. It is a hard time, yes, to lose a loved one- suicide or otherwise. But it does not mean the end of hope."

….

Christopher met with the Vicar, who owned Trevor, and The Fat Controller himself, to discuss the funeral arrangements.

They agreed that it would also be held at Cronk, and Trevor was allowed a bereavement leave, of sorts, to pay his respects to the engine and friend who saved his life. They also agreed that only several engines could attend the funeral- but everyone who couldn't go would hold a two-minute silence for the deceased number '2'.

Flowers and tributes were organized, and once again, children were allowed a day off school in respect of Edward – with permission from the Mayor, like before.

…..

On the Sunday morning, the funeral was held. The Brass Band, whom Edward had always loved listening to, played mournful songs for their friend whilst their eyes watered with grief.

The engines shed tears of sadness as once again, Reg solemnly sorted out Edward's scrap parts. The realization that Edward was really gone hit them like a ton of bricks- they couldn't deny it any longer.

Edward was gone. He was dead.

Trevor, BoCo and Duck were all very upset in particular- in addition to the Steam Team- for they had been Edward's closest friends on the branch. It was also Edward's friendship with both engines that helped Duck overcome his prejudice of diesels and befriend BoCo, following his nasty encounter with Diesel.

….

At the memorial service after the funeral, which was held at Wellsworth Station in his honor, the children sang songs about him and his brave feats on the line, which had enthralled their parents and grandparents when they were young children.

The Fat Controller then stood up to make a speech.

"Ladies, gentlemen, children and engines- as you all know, we recently lost Edward to a tragic suicide." He began. "Ever since I first brought Edward here from the Furness Railway, I had always known him to be a kind hearted, patient, and brave engine who has done so much for this railway. He never gave up when he was needed most; he always knew how best to teach younger engines and calm down everyone else, he took great pride in his work; and he was never far behind when his support, advice and guidance was needed. He was a most trustworthy, reliable worker who always did his hardest with a smile on his face, and he was also a loyal and affectionate friend to all who knew him."

The engines all agreed with his sentiments on Edward- truer words had never been spoken by anyone.

"He never let it matter to him how old he was; he was always focused on what he could do." The Fat Controller continued, wiping away a few tears that had formed. "His loss will be greatly felt by myself, my engines, and a great many more. Thank you." And he shuffled off to rejoin his wife, mother, children and grandchildren. m

Christopher was next. He stood up and said, "I just wish to say that my late father, the Reverend Wilbert Awdry, told me stories of this wonderful place as a child, before he told every other child and childlike adult." He smiled fondly. "Edward was the first engine I have ever heard him talk of, and I always admired him for his kindness and determination- something which I hope young people and engines can learn from in future."

He paused a moment and cleared his throat before continuing. "And that is the reason why Edward will hold a special place in my heart. He showed me not only the magic and beauty of Sodor, but what a huge impact acts of compassion, courage and fortitude can have on people. He has inspired me and many others, and I sincerely hope the marvelous legacy he has left behind will continue to do the same for younger generations. Thank you,"

He moved away as well, and then the Vicar led 'Amazing Grace' before the engines shared their experiences with the kind engine; Gordon mentioned how Edward often acted as his banker; James recalled with glittering detail the daring feat he performed when James himself inadvertently became a runaway; Henry reminisced on how the old blue engine pulled a train home on a broken valve- and also accidentally mentioned that Edward had conversations with the Queen and Richard III in his sleep, eliciting some chuckles from the crowd.

After that, they shared a few more stories about him; funny, memorable, heartwarming, sad; anything to help keep his memory alive.

The children also mentioned they would miss seeing Edward chuff about on the line, and the Vicar blessed Edward's soul, and closed the service with a hymn, and a final song in Edward's memory, before everyone departed, with hugs and sympathetic words exchanged aplenty.

A few days later, Christopher went home, his heart heavy with the fact that Edward was now gone- but also relieved that he had been laid to rest.

A statue had also been erected in Edward's honor, near to Thomas' and many tributes were left in Edward's berth too- poems, flowers, wreaths, teddies, candles, drawings and even a copy of 'The Sad Story of Edward', with a heartfelt message from Christopher himself.

' _Dear Edward,_

 _I know we never saw each other very much, but I merely wish to say that, ever since my father first told me your story, I thought of you. Whenever I was sad, lonely or ready to give up something I couldn't do, I always thought of you. Often, I would still fail in my task, but I persevered and eventually succeeded- because you had done so. You had achieved what seemed impossible to me, but I know now never to doubt one's abilities- either my own or someone else's._

 _Thank you, for teaching me what it really means to be kind and brave. You are an inspiration to all, and I wish all the best, wherever you may be now._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Christopher Awdry.'_

….

Two pearly white drops gently splashed on a white buffer beam on reading those benevolent words.

"You can't be crying, can you, Edward?" Thomas teased, rolling up beside his beloved mentor.

Edward smiled at his friend and former pupil. "Well, I'm just touched, that's all. But I also feel bad… I took my own life, and yet, everyone took the time to hold a funeral service in my honor and leave tributes in my shed." Edward confessed. "I thought…. I thought everyone would be mad at me."

"Hey, you were hurting, badly," Thomas pointed out. "Besides, it's not your manner of death that's their concern- it's how you lived your life. I'm not saying your death's not insignificant, it's just…. Funerals are meant to celebrate life, in a sense."

"You're right," Smiled Edward. "I guess they are. But they are also sad affairs, because there are dead people being buried."

"Or scrapped," Thomas added quietly.

"Touché." Edward murmured. "If only we can go back, Thomas." He said sadly.

"When you can't go back, don't look back," the little tank engine advised. "We can only go forward from here, and allow our friends to do the same.

"That's right, Thomas." Edward smiled sagely.

Thomas smiled back at his friend. "So, want another race?" He asked cheekily, winking at Edward.

"Oh, I will win this time!" Edward said, laughing.

"No, I will!" Thomas said.

"Well, only one way to find out," Answered the old engine, playfully. "Are you ready?"

"Steady…."

"GO!" They both chorused, and they raced off into the starry skies, laughing cheerily. They let out one last goodbye whistle to the Island they called home, the engines and people they called their friends, the railway they called their place of productivity and then… they faded away.


End file.
